


i love your voice (more than i love naps)

by fruti2flutie



Category: ASTRO (Band), 크나큰 | KNK (Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Parenthood, mentions of astro knk bestie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 20:09:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8174468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruti2flutie/pseuds/fruti2flutie
Summary: the park-kim household is just like any other.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ive been really anxious lately & writing this fic has definitely helped me calm down :') fluff is the best medicine!! i love fluff!!! fluff is so good!!!!!!!! all hail fluff!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> overall fic inspired by [knk's parenting diary](http://www.vlive.tv/video/10237/%EB%A7%88%EC%9D%B4-%ED%81%AC%EB%82%98%ED%81%B0-%ED%85%94%EB%A0%88%EB%B9%84%EC%A0%84-35-%ED%81%AC%EB%82%98%ED%81%B0KNK-%EC%9C%A1%EC%95%84-%EC%9D%BC%EA%B8%B0) that saved my life, kid!astro inspired by [yehetno's kid!socky fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7699159) that saved my life, w/ title taken from [voisper's "in your voice"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pcDIOpnJkes) that saved my life (do u see a pattern here)

Jihun opens the front door and sighs heavily, dropping his coat on the ground and taking off his three-centimeter high dress shoes. It had been a long day at the office, where files were incorrectly documented and a client got angry at him for trying to verify her identity. Normally it’s peaceful at his cubicle, but today had been especially harrowing. At least now that he’s home he has three bursts of sunshine to shed some light on his current dreary disposition.

Rolling his neck, he heads straight into the living room and peers around the wall. He smiles. “Where are my two favorite boys?”

Minhyuk and Sanha, seven and six respectively, are both on the couch. The TV is playing Telemonster on low volume. Covered by his favorite Mickey Mouse blanket Minhyuk is snoring peacefully at the far corner. Sanha, on the other hand, cackles energetically as he scribbles blunted crayons into his coloring book. Today it’s the Disney princesses edition — a green-haired Sleeping Beauty with purple skin, red eyes, and an orange dress. Upon seeing Jihun he jumps up and barrels straight into his father’s arms.

“Dad!” beams Sanha, giggling when Jihun scoops him high in the air. He frowns, then, and touches his father’s cheeks. “Wait, isn’t Daddy your favorite? Shouldn’t us _three_ be your favorites?”

Jihun hums, “Well...” He noses into Sanha’s shirt, and Sanha laughs. “I guess he’s my favorite, too. Don’t tell him!”

“Why not?” Sanha’s eyes widen. He whispers carefully, “Is it a secret?”

Planting a kiss on Sanha’s cheek Jihun remarks, “Sure. Just between you and me, kiddo. And you can tell Minhyuk if you really want.” He sets Sanha down and asks, “Where’s Daddy anyway?”

Sanha shrugs. “Dunno.” He skips over to the couch and plops next to Minhyuk, who doesn’t even react at the bounce. “Daddy said he was going to cook for us. He told me and Minhyuk hyung to stay here and wait. But then Minhyuk hyung fell asleep, so I’m waiting for the both of us.”

“So Daddy is in the kitchen,” Jihun says, and Sanha shrugs again. “You little rascal,” he mutters, ruffling Sanha’s hair. “Can you watch your brother while I go check on Daddy?”

“I’ve _been_ watching him, Dad.” Sanha proves his point by pinching Minhyuk’s forearm. Minhyuk doesn’t stir. “See?”

“I trust you. Don’t make me regret it.”

Jihun walks to the kitchen and, sure enough, Seungjun is by the stove where two pots are steaming. He’s wearing an apron that barely fits around his waist, holding a ladle, and squinting at the screen of his phone. His hair is a mess, which means he hadn’t gone outside at all today save for dropping the kids off at school, but he still looks gorgeous. Jihun tiptoes behind him and tucks his chin comfortably on Seungjun’s shoulder. Seungjun is unimaginably tall, but Jihun is able to tolerate it with only an inch under him.

“Welcome home, honey,” hums Seungjun. He turns his head to the side to meet Jihun’s kiss. “I’m making dinner tonight. It’s almost ready,” he announces happily.

“What is it?”

Seungjun stirs the ladle into the pot and brings it to Jihun’s mouth. “Taste,” he orders. “I promise it’s not bad.”

Jihun raises an eyebrow. “That doesn’t mean it’s good either, babe.” Seungjun thrusts the ladle closer to his mouth, relentless, and Jihun sighs in defeat. Opening his mouth, Jihun lets Seungjun spoon the piping hot liquid past his lips.

Kimchi stew. Traditional, recognizable, warm on Jihun’s tongue. It’s not the best, but it’s not terrible. If anything, the broth is too bland. “Add soy sauce,” suggests Jihun. He peers into the other pot and sees five eggs boiling.

Seungjun brings the ladle back to the stew and says, “Really? Is that all?”

“Yeah, but not too much of it. Sanha will complain if it’s too salty,” Jihun says. He goes to the fridge and takes out a water bottle. “Where’d you get this recipe from?”

While he goes through the cabinets to find soy sauce Seungjun responds cheerily, “Grandma! She said I should try cooking like this more often, but I don’t really know why...”

“It’s because every time she calls us you tell her we’re eating pizza, ramyun, or fried chicken. Her timing is so bad,” Jihun huffs. “She must think we don’t know how to fend for ourselves. She might think we’re neglecting our kids, too.”

Seungjun frowns. “Hey, Grandma wouldn’t think that.” He pauses, soy sauce bottle in hand, and turns to Jihun, who leans against the counter with his eyebrows cocked. “Okay, actually, possibly. She’s old-fashioned, what else can I say?”

“A lot of things, but I’ll keep them to myself.”

Seungjun swats at him, and Jihun smirks when he can’t reach while simultaneously holding onto the ladle. “I’ll send her a picture when it’s all ready,” he proclaims pointedly.

“Do you need any help?” asks Jihun.

“Uh...” Seungjun looks around the kitchen, humming. Suddenly, he points to the rice cooker and blurts, “Oh, I didn’t cook the rice!” He smiles widely, biting his lip.

Jihun chuckles, “Sounds like just the job for me. I can’t mess that up, can I?”

—

“Dad, the rice is so wet!” whines Sanha, kicking out his feet and banging the underside of the table. Minhyuk protectively holds onto his cup of milk so his little brother’s tantrum doesn’t knock it over. “How can we eat this? It’s so watery! The rice is floating!”

“Pretend it’s soup,” Jihun mutters, sheepishly rubbing his neck as he mixes the soaking rice with a spoon. It had been embarrassing enough when Seungjun had sent a picture of the overfilled rice cooker to his Grandma, snickering when Jihun groaned into his hands. (She responded with “ _fail_ ” and a laughing emoji — how mortifying.)

The dinner table is still full, despite Jihun’s blunder. The parents always sit across one another so that Sanha and Minhyuk are at equal distances to them. A bowl of boiled eggs soaked in a vegetable broth is on Jihun’s side, along with slices of pickled radish in a dish. Seungjun had taken out some packets of seaweed and the leftover blocks of fried tofu, too. At the center of the table is Seungjun’s kimchi stew, a cloth underneath the pot to protect the wooden table from scorches. The rice is at Sanha’s end, and he continues glowering at it, deep frown set on his face.

“Your dad tried his best,” Seungjun says, reaching over to pet Sanha’s hair. “Can’t you tell him that he did a good job?”

“But he _didn’t_ ,” grumbles Sanha, slumping in his seat. Minhyuk snickers.

Jihun pinches Minhyuk on the cheek and his son squawks, “What did I do?” Swiftly, he makes sure his milk is safe, checking its contents. There is still milk inside his cup. Good. “Okay, Dad, seriously! What did I do?”

“You laughed at me,” Jihun huffs. “If Daddy and Sanha aren’t going to be on my side, then I need you to help me out, Minhyuk. We have to stick together!”

Avoiding his father’s eyes Minhyuk holds his cup to his lips and mutters, “The rice isn’t sticking together...”

Seungjun guffaws, hitting Jihun’s side, and Sanha lets out a chuckle of his own. Jihun feels himself get red in the face as he finishes scooping out everyone’s rice, trying not to get the excess water in the bowls. “Why are we housing such smart alecks,” he murmurs grumpily.

“I’m proud of my sons,” Seungjun declares. He gets out of his seat and takes out his phone, holding it in front of him.  “Let’s take a selfie to send to Grandma, okay? We’ll tell her about our special homemade dinner by Dad and Daddy the next time we visit.” The family poses cutely, and Seungjun says, “Say Kim Jihun!” The picture is taken, and Seungjun proceeds to write an affectionate message.

Jihun pushes at Seungjun’s shoulder. “It’s ‘say kim _chi_ ,’ babe. Don’t teach our kids to say my full name,” he chides. He picks up his chopsticks and points at his kids with them. “Start eating, you two. The food will get cold.”

“Kim Jihun,” Seungjun calls, smiling mischievously.

“Yeah?”

Seungjun holds out his thumb and index finger, which are shaped into a small heart. “I love you.”

“As big as your butt!” yells Sanha, waving around his spoon. Seungjun laughs while Jihun stares at his younger son, puzzled. “Daddy says that all the time. When he says that, that means something is _really_ big.”

Nodding, Seungjun says gleefully, “Daddy’s love for Dad is—” He spreads his arms out wide, “—this big!”

“Eat your eggs,” Jihun tells him, blushing from his ears to his cheeks. “And stop staring at your milk, Minhyuk, it’s not going anywhere!”

—

After dinner Seungjun and Jihun bring Sanha and Minhyuk upstairs for a bath. The task is always difficult for them because Sanha loves chaos and attacking his older brother with the loofahs, while Minhyuk is prone to slips and spilling water outside the tub. Bathing them together saves time, but it also takes a lot of energy. Jihun is the father in charge of washing hair, Seungjun is the father in charge of scrubbing the skin, and Sanha and Minhyuk rock-paper-scissors to choose which parent they want first. Today, Sanha wins and chooses Jihun.

“Of course,” his younger father hums, lathering the shampoo into his son’s hair. On the other side of the tub Seungjun struggles to handle Minhyuk, too slippery to hold onto and too lively to sit still on his own. “Did you pick me to get back on my good side?”

Sanda nods, lips curled upwards. “Yup!” he giggles. He winces when Jihun has to pull at a clump of his hair to untangle it. “Ah, Dad, no knots! That hurts!”

“There wouldn’t be knots if you combed your hair like Daddy taught you,” reprimands Jihun. Sanha puffs out his cheeks and slouches. “Even though you have thin hair, it gets so tangled!”

Seungjun grins and affirms, “You should never go out of the house without your hair properly groomed, boys. That is the most important thing you should learn from me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” says Minhyuk, finally allowing Seungjun to scrub him clean.

The rest of bathtime goes by smoothly. Jihun gets to Minhyuk’s hair, which is easier to manage than Sanha’s because it’s a tad shorter and frequently combed. Seungjun gets to play around with Sanha, who has even more energy than Minhyuk, and chase him around the tub with banana-scented soap. When the boys are squeaky clean and all dried off Sanha gets dressed in his Pikachu pajamas while Minhyuk has his Doraemon onesie. Seungjun diligently blowdries their hair as Jihun prepares their toothbrushes.

Sanha is in kindergarten and Minhyuk is in the first grade, which means they share the same bedtimes at eight o’ clock. After brushing their teeth — by themselves, because they’re “grown up enough” so their fathers don’t need to help them — Sanha and Minhyuk race to their shared room, tripping over their feet as they jump under their covers. There are still toys on the ground, miniature cars and half dressed dolls and disassembled building blocks. Jihun and Seungjun come inside not long afterwards to tuck them in, careful where they step.

“Does anybody want a bedtime story?” asks Seungjun, walking over to the small bookshelf. It mostly has picture books, but Yuji had brought over some of Myungjun’s old books last time she came. They’re not too complicated, simple sentences and words, and as an instructor Seungjun knows the importance of literature in a young child’s life outside of the classroom.

Bouncing in his bed Sanha exclaims, “Me! I do! Me!”

“I’m good,” says Minhyuk. “No, thank you.”

Seungjun plucks one of Sanha’s favorites from the shelf — _The Giving Tree_ by Shel Silverstein — and sits at the edge of his bed, opening to the first page. While his husband takes care of their younger son Jihun heads over to Minhyuk’s side of the room, kneeling down near Minhyuk’s head.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks. “I saw you napping earlier.”

Minhyuk giggles. “There was a field day at school, after lunch,” he tells his father, hushed. “I tried playing soccer because you always say how fun it is. It was! But now my energy is very small.”

“You’re not too tired, are you? You have your taekwondo lesson tomorrow evening.” Jihun moves Minhyuk’s hair away from his eyes, something that he remembers his own mother doing to him when he was young. “Training for your yellow belt.”

“That’s why I’m going to sleep now.” Minhyuk smiles drowsily. “Can we visit uncle Heejun and uncle Inseong this weekend? And uncle Youjin, too?”

Jihun drapes the blanket up to Minhyuk’s shoulders and hums, “We’ll see about that. It depends on what Daddy wants to do, because he’s the driver of the family.”

“You should get your driver’s license, Dad.”

“I have it! I just... don’t use it, is all.”

Minhyuk laughs, “You’re not a good driver.”

Scoffing, Jihun squishes Minhyuk’s face and plants a loud kiss on his forehead. “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” Minhyuk snickers. “Goodnight, kiddo.”

“Goodnight, Dad!”

Jihun stands and sees that Seungjun is finished reading, closing the book, with Sanha’s eyes drooping. The sight makes him want to yawn. “Switch,” he tells him, and Seungjun gives his hand a squeeze as he heads over to Minhyuk. Jihun takes Seungjun’s spot and says, “Sanha, baby, you haven’t even told me goodnight yet.”

“‘m not a baby,” slurs Sanha. He tosses over and faces Jihun, cracking an eye open. “Love you, Dad. G’night.” And then he shuts his eyes and begins to snore. Cute.

Making sure Sanha is all tucked in, Jihun kisses his cheek and turns off the lamp by the bed. Seungjun is having a quiet talk with Minhyuk that ends with a kiss on their son’s temple, and both the kids are ready for sleep. The parents leave the room, shut the door behind them, and head to their own bedroom.

Seungjun and Jihun’s room is the master bedroom, across the hall from the boys’ room, which includes its own bathroom and a walk-in closet. (The walk-in closet is more like a storage room, because there are clothes scattered everywhere and Seungjun’s countless stuffed animals are hibernating under the hangers.) The TV stand has their flat screen, a present from Jihun’s aunt after getting married, and a small vase that has the paper flowers Minhyuk made for them in art class. There are a few dressers pushed against the walls which hold clothes folded by Seungjun and disorganized by Jihun. They don’t separate most of their wardrobe, mostly because Jihun ends up wearing Seungjun’s (fashionable) clothes half the time anyway.

Jihun opens up a drawer and takes out a pair of boxers and a plain shirt. “I’m gonna shower,” he says. “Keep the bed warm for me.”

Seungjun jumps onto the mattress and hugs a pillow to his chest. He smiles. “Okay, honey.”

The shower is refreshing in all the right ways. Jihun loves washing away his troubles in the hot water, the steady stream. Jihun is especially happy since Seungjun must’ve bought a new flowery-scented soap. It’s like a bouquet of roses in a bottle!

When he’s shampooing his hair Seungjun comes in to brush his teeth and take off his contacts.  Regrettably, Seungjun turns down Jihun’s offer to come in and join him. (Seungjun had already taken his shower of the day, and rarely anything could convince him to take another). Jihun pouts about it for a while, but then Seungjun tells him to hurry up so they can get to bed — and that sounds even better than a two-person shower.

Sitting up against the bedframe, Seungjun is playing on the iPad when Jihun finishes drying his hair, the reflection in his glasses showing that he’s watching some cartoon with Korean subtitles. It’s not exactly what Jihun had expected, but he honestly should’ve expected this, too. He’s a bit disappointed nevertheless, so he drapes himself over his husband’s lap and blocks Seungjun’s view of the screen.

“Kim Jihun,” Seungjun says scoldingly, eyebrows pinched.

Jihun grins up at him. “Park Seungjun,” he retorts, playful, moving closer to Seungjun’s front so they can both see the screen. Jihun recognizes the animation as Pokémon, who knows what season, and watches along with him.

Seungjun starts to lightly scratch his back, and Jihun sighs contentedly. “We hyphenated our last names, yet we still call one another like that,” Seungjun says. “We’re so weird.”

“Because the legal documents put your last name before mine. Park-Kim Seungjun and Park-Kim Jihun.” Jihun smiles wryly. “Kim-Park still sounds better.”

Seungjun rolls his eyes. “We have two sons,” he says. “We can say Park-Kim Minhyuk and Kim-Park Sanha. Take turns.”

Jihun scoffs, “That’ll confuse them. Do you know how hard memorizing names are for kids? I’m pretty sure Sanha still thinks that Hyeyeon noona and Haeryeong noona are the same person because their names both start with an _h_ and he calls them both aunts.”

It’s hard for Seungjun to argue with that so he laughs, scratching harder at Jihun’s back and feeling Jihun’s arms snake around his middle. “Work didn’t go so great?” he asks. “You looked down ever since you got home.”

“So many things went bad,” Jihun confesses forlornly. “I got yelled at by some lady trying to get her entire car accident covered by us. I needed her ID, but she insisted she should be able to access her information without it. It was horrible. An insurance company can only do so much when it’s actually the client’s fault, you know? I should’ve just stayed in the photography business.”

Seungjun frowns. “Poor Jihunnie,” he murmurs, and it makes Jihun feel cozy — he always likes hearing the nickname roll off Seungjun’s tongue. “You can endure it. I know you can. There are gonna be days like that, but then there’s always tomorrow to look forward to. And with photography — if you did it as your job, you wouldn’t like it as much, honey.”

Jihun nuzzles Seungjun’s stomach. He smells like vanilla and cinnamon. “How about you? You worked from home today.” Seungjun’s job is a private instructor, who typically doesn’t do much unless he’s scheduled. Since he’s so popular, though, he rarely has full free days — today was an exception.

“I was okay. A few parents called me to schedule tutoring sessions. Most of them will be next week, in the afternoons. Ah, Hyeyeon wants me to stop by and give Jinwoo a speech lesson, so I can finally return his bag that he left here last time he came over.” Seungjun hums, shrugging. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Ugh, I wish I had the capacity to teach kids like you,” Jihun groans, tilting his face to meet Seungjun’s gaze. “Babe, can I be rewarded for surviving the day?” Seungjun gives him a peck on the lips, and Jihun shakes his head. “No, a little more.”

Because Jihun had a bad day work, is staring at him expectantly, and takes his hand to interlock their fingers together, Seungjun puts aside Pokémon and does just that and then some.

—

Sanha barrels into his parents bedroom and jumps on their bed, trying to rouse them from slumber. “Wake up!” he shouts, shaking Seungjun’s shoulders. “Wake up, Daddy! Wake up, Dad! It’s time to wake _up_!”

Seungjun makes a disgruntled noise and sits straight, Sanha bounding into his lap giddily. (Jihun is still snoring, which is unsurprising.) “Up, up, I’m up,” he proclaims, voice scratchy. He kisses Sanha’s forehead and squishes both his cheeks with the heels of his hands. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Muffled, Sanha exclaims, “Breakfast!”

“Breakfast, huh?” Seungjun checks the clock by the bed, _6:30 a.m._ , and sighs quietly. Jihun has to catch the bus to work at 7:40, Minhyuk and Sanha are at school by 8:15, and Seungjun is going to Dahye’s house with the boys at 3:00 to teach her son Bin long division. The day will be long anyway, so he supposes it wouldn’t hurt to get an early start.

After putting on his glasses Seungjun swings his legs out of bed and carries Sanha in his arms. “Thanks for waking me up, but let Dad sleep a little longer, okay? He’s tired.” Sanha shows a mild pout but nods. Seungjun walks them down the stairs and asks, “Is your brother awake?”

Sanha shakes his head, his unruly hair curling at the ends. “Nope. He’s dead.” He demonstrates by lolling his head against Seungjun’s neck, body going limp, and declaring, “ _Bleh_.”

Halting on a step, Seungjun cranes his neck to his son and inquires firmly, “Who taught you to say that? Was it someone at school?”

“It was Uncle Heejun!” Sanha answers innocently. “He’s so fun to play with, Daddy! I like Uncle Heejun the most!”

“Well, we need to change that.”

Downstairs, Seungjun sets Sanha down at the dining room table and prepares breakfast. He pulls on his apron and takes out the ingredients, making sure they have pancake batter and enough eggs. Normally, in the mornings, Seungjun makes kimbap rolls for everyone, but Sanha has specifically requested pancakes and scrambled eggs — he’d read about it in a book the other day and wanted to eat them ever since. Seungjun reads the directions on the box and gets to cooking.

Sanha talks (“Hey, Daddy, do you know Dongmin hyung wants to be actor? Seriously!”) and sings (“Twinkle, twinkle, little— Ah, no, I don’t like this song anymore. How does the Pororo song go again?”) while Seungjun gets everything going. The noise is loud enough to wake Minhyuk, who comes into the kitchen wrapped in his Mickey Mouse blanket and joins his brother at the table. They mess around, poke at each other’s stomachs, until Seungjun tells them breakfast is almost ready, go brush your teeth, can you wake Dad? And of course the boys set off running.

As Seungjun sets the table Minhyuk and Sanha bring Jihun to the kitchen, the two of them dragging at each of his arms. Jihun barely has his eyes open when they prop him in his chair, and when he sees the plate laid out in front of him — two neatly arranged pancakes and a scoop of scrambled eggs — he smiles.

“Thank you, beautiful world, for giving me two beautiful boys and a beautiful husband and a beautiful breakfast to start my day off right,” Jihun says.

Sanha and Minhyuk are already scarfing down their pancakes, barely paying any attention to their father and his words of grace. Seungjun laughs when Jihun makes a face and kisses him briefly on the lips. Jihun’s grimace subsides, but he turns to Seungjun and glares accusingly.

“I didn’t brush my teeth yet,” Seungjun admits impishly. Jihun wrinkles his nose.

Minhyuk shouts, “Gross!” while Sanha gasps, appalled.

Everyone finishes their breakfast in no time. (But not before Sanha forces Seungjun to brush his teeth. It’s a sight to see — a three-foot-two tall kid pushing at a six-foot-three tall adult.) Once done, Sanha and Minhyuk turn on the television and watch some morning cartoon shows. Seungjun cleans the table, and Jihun gets ready for work.

Seungjun is washing the dishes when Jihun comes back downstairs again, now dressed in a white button-up and slacks. “See you all when I get home,” he announces, hopping to the living room to kiss his sons goodbye. He comes behind Seungjun and kisses his cheek. “Love you, babe.”

“I love you, too, Jihunnie.”

Minhyuk sees him out the door, handing Jihun his briefcase and yelling, “Bye, Dad!” as Jihun jogs to the bus stop down the street.

There’s still time before Seungjun has to drop the boys off at school, so he sits and watches TV with them. Thankfully Pokémon is Sanha’s favorite and Minhyuk’s second-favorite (because Jihun had shown him Doraemon when he was four and he adored it). Sanha loves imitating the noises Pokémon make, squeals and chirps and growls, while Minhyuk pretends to move like them, spinning and rolling and twirling. Seungjun claps whenever they make it like an impromptu performance.

When it gets closer to eight Minhyuk and Sanha pick out their own clothes for school while Seungjun supervises, because everyone agrees Seungjun can’t color-coordinate for the life of him. Minhyuk is into pink these days, and Sanha likes bright oranges and yellows. Seungjun dresses himself casually (“You can’t go wrong with black and white, babe,” Jihun had once said), puts in his contacts, and styles his hair with some mousse. When Sanha sees the white foam rising in his hand he begs for some of his own, so Seungjun applies a small dollop atop his head to make a tiny cowlick.

Seungjun packs their lunches — sliced apples, carrot and celery sticks, de-crusted PB&Js, and banana milk. Sanha and Minhyuk carry their lunchboxes excitedly as they grab their backpacks and run to the car. Seungjun opens the door for them, and the boys climb into their car seats. Minhyuk knows how to buckle himself, but Sanha refuses to learn and makes his father do it for him.

Seungjun sits in the driver’s seat and looks in the rearview mirror. “Is everyone ready back there?” he asks.

“Yup!” his sons chorus, kicking their legs. “Let’s go!”

The drive to the elementary school doesn’t take long — it never feels like it. Sanha is always singing along to the radio; even if he doesn’t know the words he’ll attempt to follow the melody. Minhyuk is his number one cheerleader, clapping and cheering when Sanha tries to hit notes much higher than three-foot-two.

There are already a handful of cars dropping off children, so Seungjun makes sure to be extra careful as he pulls up to the curb. He gets out to unbuckle Sanha while Minhyuk happily frees himself first and escapes the car.

“Have fun!” Seungjun calls out after him, and Minhyuk grins widely and waves. He turns his attention to Sanha and tickles his sides before letting him go with his brother. “Be good, you two!” Sanha blows him a kiss as he runs off.

Dotingly, Seungjun makes sure both of his kids are in the building before getting back in the car. Pulling out of the school lot, Seungjun drives onto the main road and whistles. He needs to get groceries for tonight’s dinner, and he’s feeling spaghetti. Hopefully Sanha won’t be too picky this time and eat all his noodles. And hopefully Jihun doesn’t turn the noodles into mush before the kids get a chance to try them.

Seungjun can’t wait.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  credit @[seungseong](http://seungseong.tumblr.com/post/143961565034/wow-i-cant-believe-seungjun-and-jihun-are-dating)
> 
> fun facts:  
> -this fic was supposed to be a drabble & end after dinner  
> -my fav line is "But now my energy is very small."  
> -there are less knk fics than up10, how wild --- actually this doesnt apply anymore lmao but knk r still underrated in the ficdom  
> -i'm on tumblr @[whateverbroski](http://whateverbroski.tumblr.com)


End file.
